The Scoundrel Duke of her Heart by Violet Hamers

Chapter Forty-One

Nicholas woke before Jenny and he gazed down at her sleeping form with a full heart and a smile on his face.

They had spent the entire night in each other's arms, splitting their time between talking, making love, and sleeping. He was honestly surprised at how energized he was despite getting less than three hours of sleep.

He contemplated waking Jenny up to love her again but took pity on her. Smiling to himself, lowered his head back onto the pillow. Then frantic knocking came, wrenching the peace out of him once more.

“Nicholas! Open this door now!” It was Persephone. Now, what did she want?

"Nicholas!" She called again. "Open this door! You are soiling the title’s good name and you will answer for it.”

Jenny woke, her sleepy eyes widening at the sound of the dowager’s voice. "Bloody hell, woman!" Nicholas cursed, scrambling to wear his clothes. He helped his wife fasten her clothes, too, before yanking the door open.

"What the devil are you doing here?" he demanded.

She shoved a paper into his hands before walking past him into the study. "Explain yourself!" She said as he scanned the gossip sheet.

There was a section in it about his marriage to a certain Miss W, accusing him of bigamy. It appeared Lady Digby had informed the gossip sheets as she had threatened but made sure to protect her daughter's identity.

"What do you have to say for yourself for tarnishing generations of Seaton's perfect image?" Persephone thumped her cane against the floor, her mouth turned down with disgust. Jenny came to stand beside him and took the paper. She blanched as she read the contents but she did not say anything.

“Grandmother,” he began but was interrupted by Bentley.

“What is it?” he snapped.

“Lord—”

"Nicholas Brighton!" An enraged Lord Hanover stormed into the study, waving a gossip sheet identical to the one Persephone had brought in his face. "For your sake, boy, you better tell me that this is just a baseless rumor." That man had dropped all courtesy and Nicholas felt like a boy again.

This is just the breakfast I need,he thought to himself. An angry grandmother with a side of fuming father-in-law.

"Papa," Jenny spoke, going to her father and collecting the paper from him. "Let us all be calm and handle this in a civilized manner."

"You know about this?" Adolf asked her, looking horrified.

"Yes, Papa, I know everything," she replied ruefully. "Give Nicholas the chance to explain."

Nicholas gave his wife a grateful look before proceeding to explain everything to them. And he would not rest until he found a clean way out of this mire. A way that would ensure he kept Jenny by his side. Especially now that their marriage had been made real. A life without her would simply be no life at all. He could not imagine a more damning fate.

“Do what you must to clean this, Nicholas,” Persephone said, “or I will. You never like it when I take charge of matters and you won’t like this one, too, I am sure.”

Lord Hanover was not so easily placated, however. He was solemn when he said, “You have risked my daughter’s reputation and we are uncertain whether your marriage to her holds true before the law. If I had known—”

“It’s done, Papa,” Jenny said gently, touching his arm. “We cannot change the past but look at him,” she motioned toward Nicholas, “he is endeavoring to right it all. Let us have a little more faith in him.”

That appeared to convince Adolf to trust him and he nodded. “But know that I will demand satisfaction if my daughter’s reputation is ruined.”

* * *

That afternoon, Nicholas sat brooding in his study. He had no regrets concerning the night he had spent with Jenny. Hell, it was the best night of his life! But he could not help worrying about the future should he be unable to annul his marriage to Vanessa.

An unwanted knock came for the second time that day and Nicholas thought about how the sound was quickly becoming a harbinger of grave news to him. He called out and Bentley entered, a grim expression on his face. He barely said a word before Ernest stormed in. With a nod, Nicholas dismissed Bentley and rose to his full height to take another indignant relative’s confrontation.

"You are your grandmother's true grandchild," Ernest barked, throwing that dratted gossip sheet that everyone seemed to be walking about with onto the desk. "I thought you said you were taking care of the matter, Your Grace.”

Ernest never addressed him as Your Grace. For him to do so now showed how angry he must be. "Not you, too, Ernest." Nicholas heaved a weary sigh.

"You should thank God that Jenny is your wife and the victim here, Nicholas. For her sake and only for her sake, I pulled a few strings to contain the circulation of the paper. Still, the damage has been dealt."

"You think that I am sitting around doing nothing?" Nicholas defended. "I agree that my investigations are taking undue time, but some things are simply beyond our control."

Ernest's voice dipped very low. “Do something or I swear to God you will meet me if Jenny is ruined.”

“There appears to be a queue forming of gentlemen that wish to duel me,” he stated in a matter-of-fact manner. He was growing furious, mostly at himself. "You wouldn't be the first person I hear that from today. Go ask Lord Hanover to be your second, would you? And don’t forget to inform Sir Phineas. Surely, he would be happy to join.”

"Oh, I will if you don't take responsibility." Nicholas groaned. Why was everyone thinking he was doing nothing? They loved Jenny but he doubted they could ever love her as he did.

Ernest stormed out of his study the way he had come, leaving the door wide open. He picked up a pen—for lack of something better—and threw it at the door, cursing. Then he strode out into the hall, bellowing the butler’s name. “Fetch my hat and gloves,” he ordered when Bentley appeared.

"Shall I have the carriage brought round, Your Grace?" he asked calmly.

"No." He walked past him to the servants’ entrance at the back of the house, then straight to the stables.

Nicholas rode his mount hard in frustration to an obscure pub outside of Mayfair, hoping for some respite away from all the accusations. Having a clear head was important and he could not get that with every man in Jenny’s life threatening to challenge him to a duel. After ordering some ale from the cheerful barman, he found a table in a corner and took a seat. Footsteps approached and he looked up, expecting his ale but was equally disappointed and aggravated by the sight of the person that stood before him instead.

"Your Grace," Sir Phineas said, taking the empty seat opposite him. "Fancy running into you here." Nicholas mumbled something that sounded like a greeting.

"Not feeling chatty, eh? Well, I am not feeling very chatty myself." He tapped his well-manicured nails on the table.

"How long do you reckon before they bring out our drinks?" Sir Phineas asked after a beat, cracking his knuckles now.

"Would you quit with the bloody noises?" Nicholas finally snapped.

"At last!" he exclaimed. "I thought you had something stuck in your throat for a while there, mate."

"I'm not your mate," Nicholas grumbled.

"In here, right now, you are." The young man's blithe features suddenly turned serious. An expression Nicholas hadn’t ever thought his face capable of forming before now formed. "Considering that I quietly conceded a most precious gem to you, I think that I have definitely earned that position."

Nicholas understood where the conversation was headed, but he did not speak. He allowed the man to continue. "I have to admit that my initial interest in Jenny was because she reminded me of a certain person I lost. Her name was also Jenny, you see and she bid the world adieu a little too early."

Nicholas's indignation began to dissolve as the man spoke. His jealousy might be irrational and unfounded. "When I met her as Lady Jenny Robshaw, she reminded me of my Jenny. And honestly, I had the desire to replace my Jenny with her."

Nicholas looked up at this pronouncement, then started to say something but Sir Phineas held up a hand. "I know how selfish that sounds. Not to mention the cruelty of subjecting her to living in someone else's shadow for the rest of her life. That would have been unforgivable. But as I got to know her, I realized that all I wanted was friendship from her.

"The connection I share with Jenny is that of one soul seeking to better the other. And she has bettered my life in more ways than I could ever express.” Nicholas listened with grave attention as Sir Phineas sang his wife's praises and every word was the truth. Jenny was a light that could never be put out.

"She opened my eyes that night at Hyde Park to the one mistake I didn't realize I have been making that almost ruined me," he finished solemnly.

Sir Phineas was far from the breezy fellow he painted himself to be. Inside, he was a broken man who masked his pain with a constant smile on his face while making efforts to put genuine ones on others' faces. That understanding removed the animosity Nicholas felt toward him and it was replaced with respect.

"Why are you telling me this, Sir Phineas?" Nicholas asked him at length.

"Two reasons," he said, taking a swig of his ale before continuing. "First, because you are a good man, Nicholas, and I should hate for you to find yourself in a similar situation as the one I once found myself in. Second, I may have changed my plans of making Jenny my bride earlier but I still would have given her up to you because she loves you and only you. I don't fancy seeing my sacrifice wasted. I know that you love her, too."

Nicholas could not contain his surprise at this observation. “How do you know?”

"It is quite apparent to anyone with a brain who has interacted with you." Sir Phineas smiled. "Now, I do not know the details of what is going on, but you will do yourself a great deal of good to not let some flimsy gossip sheet or whatever else that is happening control your fate. Jenny is far too good for that."

The look in Sir Phineas' eyes confirmed to Nicholas that the last statement was the warning he had been getting to all along. A warning issued to him as a man, an equal; damned the bloody title and society's hierarchy.

He returned home as the sun was setting. A strange feeling ran through him when he stepped into the foyer and Bentley’s worried face told him that something was wrong before his words confirmed it.

“It’s the Duchess, Your Grace.”